One Wish
by pyxistar
Summary: Careful what you wish for; it may just come true. In which Miraculous is just a story inside of Adrien's head...or, at least, that's what he thought.


A black figure leapt across the rooftop, landing two buildings away with a dull thud. Shock curled around his ankles, but he didn't let it subdue him. He backed up to the edge of the building. Then he raced across, using the end of his staff to propel himself upwards and into the air, launching across the star jeweled sky. He felt the winds combing his tousled tresses, heard its delighted laughter in his ears as he freely bounded across the horizon. He was one with the sky, the moon, the stars.

Chat was free.

He laughed like bell chimes into the crisp air. His ears were perked for the telltale signs of an akuma, but he heard little besides cars and the occasional laughter of rowdy teens sneaking out after dark or the soft whispers of lovers trysting under the moonlight. The air tasted of tranquility.

He relished in it.

Chat paused when he heard the familiar zip of a yo-yo. From the peripheral of his vision, he noted Ladybug's yo-yo hooking around a chimney. She used it to swing around from the Eiffel Tower (inarguably the best watch tower in the world) and around several buildings. She landed so softly on the roof adjacent to him that even with his magically enhanced hearing he barely heard it. Not for the first time, he wondered if she were a dancer - a ballerina, perhaps. It suited her nimble agility and fairy-like grace, the soft femininity of her form that clashed against the boldness of her persona.

He leapt across to stand by her side. She turned towards him, a smile flitting onto her lips. "See or hear anything suspicious, kitty?"

"I did spot a ruggedly handsome figure racing around in an all black suit and mask, but then I realized it was just my reflection. You know the ladies love the buff mysterious types," Chat flexed his arms. He never smirked the way he did with Ladybug anywhere else. It felt so natural compared to the polite smiles he gave as Adrien that meant little more than formality. Here, standing beside her, he couldn't be more contented. Her hair blended into the sky, the moonlight washed over her face and illuminated her fair skin until she practically glowing, highlighted by the frosty-red tint that blossomed on the tip of her nose and along her cheekbones.

Her eyes rolled back when she laughed, though it was more of an annoyed bark than genuine amusement. The sparkle in her eyes never faded, though. "You know what they say about pesky strays. Feed their egos once and they'll never stop coming back."

"Ah, but it's true. Do you want this pesky stray to starve?"

"Maybe I'll finally get some peace and quiet!"

"Meow-ch, Milady! What do they say about pesky strays and bruised egos?" Chat purred, circling around her slowly with his hands behind his back. His green eyes were as dark as emeralds. He was the predator, and her affections was the prey. Her small snort gave him hope - he had her cornered.

She took his chin between her finger and thumb and tilted it downwards so their gazes were level with one another. Chat's heart turned into panicked sparrow wings, fluttering hard against his chest. They've been doing this for nearly three years now - his eighteenth birthday was vast approaching - but she's never touched him so tenderly, or looked into his eyes so deeply. He noticed all too well how she stepped closer to him. Their bodies were practically touching.

"It's fatal." She said. "You'll probably have eight lives left after this one, kitty."

Chat's tongue felt too numb to properly formulate words. Could he even speak through the purr he felt boiling in the pit of his throat? She gently scratched beneath his chin, giggling so softly he almost thought it was the breeze. Was she drunk on the late midnight hour? He blinked several times, hoping this wasn't some sort of dream.

"Eight?" He breathed, clasping his hand around her wrist gently. "More like four! How many lives have I lost saving your spots, bugaboo?"

"Not as many times I've saved your tail!"

"Ha!" Chat managed a chuckle. Ladybug flicked his bell and turned away, leaving him with scorching lava beneath his skin and a pounding heart. She could kill him every night with just a single smile or the twist of a knife and he wouldn't care. He loved the sting. But he didn't like what came after: the bitter aftertaste of a love long unrequited.

But this time was different.

Ladybug plopped down on the edge of the roof. Her feet dangled precariously over the edge. She swung them carelessly. When she noticed Chat Noir was still standing at the peak of the rooftop, she patted the shingles beside her. He walked over with legs of lead. He sat down, placing his hands politely in his lap.

No witty remarks came. No playful banter was pursued. She simply sat there, smiling at the stars. The winds of change caressed them. His fingers tingled when Ladybug inched her hand on top of one of his.

"Milady?"

He looked at her with murky green optics. Questions swirled in the golden flecks dotted around his pupil. They were the only imperfection that dotted his otherwise unblemished appearance.

Then, without a word, it all crumbled. She drew her hand back, cradling it to her chest like a newborn babe. He pressed his tingling fingers to his lips, trying so hard to draw himself out of his hazy mindset. She angled herself slightly away from him. "I wish it were different."

"What do you mean? Tonight is pawsitively purrfect!" Chat placed a hand atop of her shoulder. She didn't readjust her focus. Ladybug simply stared into the midnight expanse of the sky.

"I mean us. This." She waved her hand between the two of them. "The secret identities. I wish it could be different. I feel...the connection. I guess it's always been here. But we can't be together. Not until Hawkmoth is defeated. It wouldn't work out any other way."

He took back his earlier statement - she slaughtered him so merciless there on that rooftop that he could hear the sound of his own body crashing onto the ground. Or maybe that was the distant sound of his crashing heart. Chat realized, of course, that she hinted at the possibility of a future for them - but the sincerity in her voice was a bullet to the chest nonetheless. He reached out to take her hands instead, to argue for a deeper relationship between the two of them, but she stood up and held her yo-yo firmly in her hand.

"I'm sorry." Ladybug murmured. "I don't know why I..." Shaking her head, she whispered a bitter farewell before she swung off into the distance, leaving Adrien alone to contemplate his predicament. He daydreamed about her confession for so long, he supposed he overdramatized the romantic aspect of the witty monologue and passionate kisses.

For some reason, he never considered that even in the wake of a mutual crush, she'd still find a way to loop around to rejection. Bitterness coiled inside him. He shook it off. This pesky stray wasn't interested in being strung along only to have the wire cut.

 _"_ _I thought you said she didn't like him?"_

The abruptness of the voice disrupting his thoughts caused his fingers to vellicate in surprise, engraving a dark graphite scar across the paper so deep that it tore. Adrien grimaced, slowly running his fingers against the fresh impurity marked into his journal, trying hard to soothe the fire burning in his stomach and making his throat raw with the resulting smoke. "She didn't," He paused to clear his throat to prevent his voice from breaking, "but the further I get the more that seems to change."

Chloe snatched the journal from his hands to reread the passage, digesting the words more slowly, especially the latter half in which Ladybug simultaneously embraces the idea of a relationship while also rejecting it. She pursed her lips. "She's ridiculous. Why can't she make up her mind between his two identities? Utterly ridiculous.."

Adrien couldn't help the bought of laughter that ensued. He tried to conceal it behind the back of his hand, but Chloe was already snapping his journal shut and stomping across the room, mumbling something underneath her breath about how weird and dumb writers could be.

The dreams had been a plague before. They would keep him up at night with the fear that the moment he closed his eyes, they would consume him. He felt like a stone settled beside the seabed, fearing the high tides for it would sweep him beneath the ink-black waves of the midnight sea...

Adrien felt every wound in which _he_ felt. He spoke every word _he_ spoke, loved everyone _he_ loved almost as much - if not as much - as _he_ did, leaving Adrien crippled in the mornings to find that those people existed only in a realm he visited within the confines of his own mind. It felt like some twisted form of torture. Akin to a knife plunged deep within his heart albeit it still beat..

It wasn't until he decided to release these pent up emotions by writing his dreams scene-by-scene and word-for-word that the emotional toll began to ebb away. It was enough to cure the surface pain, but deep within his soul he felt an incurable ache, only softened when a pencil was in his hand.

Perhaps it would be easier when his novel, Miraculous, was released into the world, leaving curious eyes open to devour his work. That was a long time yet to come, however, considering this was only a first draft.

"What time is it?" Adrien asked, tapping on his cheek with the eraser end of his pencil was he reopened his journal and eyed the final passages. The story was becoming weaker, more abrupt and broken, as if a storm were coming... _Chat Noir, what_ _do you do?_

Glimpses of chaos stormed his mind. Somehow he felt that this story had a bittersweet ending.

"Ten." Chloe tore the journal away from his hands again and placed it on his nightstand. "Come on now, do you really want to be late for your own birthday party?"

Adrien gently put his pencil down. Excited as he was, he couldn't bury the strange prick of deja vu. Something in his stomach felt...lopsided. Inside out. Wrongly formed or terribly misshapen, as if something wasn't quite right. He felt older than fourteen - felt as if he had gone through this before.

He shook away the feeling and slid off the side of his bed. These feelings made less sense than the sense of familiarity that persisted in his dreams! It was nothing shy of a miracle when his mother managed to convinced his father to allow this party, just as it was when she convinced him that his "literary nonsense" was a healthy creative outlet she was happy to see him pursue. Adrien's father was still adamant his other extracurricular activities be completed though, such as piano practice and fencing.

For the umpteenth time that day, he shrugged off those nonsensical feelings. The blood still seemed to rush to his head, however, as if the room were flipped upside down...

The party started shortly thereafter. Adrien was familiar with white walls and white halls, a father in a white suit, and a cold, hard white wherever he turned. His father kept him a tight leash, restricting him to such colorlessness. His mother, on the other hand, seemed determined to thrust him into the watercolors of the world. And there he was, standing in the doorway of Chloe's house, where streamers were hanging down from the ceiling in striking golden hues and greens and food galore was set up on the outskirts of the room, leaving the middle open for dancing.

He assumed most of the teenagers were from Chloe's class. He recognized a few from the selfies she sent him during class when she was bored. He also recognized some prominent Parisian teens, like several contest winners his father had hand chosen within the past few months.

He gasped when he felt someone shove him forward. When he looked over his shoulder, he found his gaze catching on similar, dazzlingly green optics. "Are you going to enjoy your own party, or are you going to stand here like a statute, mon croissant?"

Adrien felt his entire body flood with heat when his old pet name reached his ears. "I-...uh..." He rubbed the back of his neck, wishing he could conjure up the same bravado Chat Noir did in Adrien's dreams. "I just...I wish I knew most of the people coming to my own party. I should have made it a small get together instead. What if they don't like me? What if they laugh -"

Emilie took both his shoulders gently in her hands and turned him to face the party once more. "They're all here because they look up to you. You are such a kind, loving person. A talented one, too. I'm sure you'll make plenty of new friends, mon croissant. Now go out there before I ground you for /not/ partying, which probably goes against every parenting book I've ever read."

Adrien found a small smile slithering onto his lips. With one final heart palpitation, he gave her a small nod, a silent thank you for her unwavering support and unconditional love throughout the last fourteen years. Then, without another word, he entered the room.

He maneuvered his way through the crowd towards the food tables. Part of him wished he hadn't given Chloe the reigns over the party, and the other half of him was pleased when he felt the music buzzing in his ribs and influencing the beat of his heart. He was so absorbed in his thoughts (as per usual) that he nearly ran straight into someone else.

"Sorry! I wasn't watching where I was -"

Suddenly, his entire vocabulary flew out the window.

Bluebell petals unfurled before him like an ocean, cresting hilltops like sea foam on waves. He flashed back to his dream, recalling a similar blue that seemed to smile at Chat on the rooftops. Looking into them now, he recognized only the color. The heartfelt emotion, the recognition, the fragmented trust in the gaze from the girl of his dream was replaced here with nothing more than a one-way mirror. He saw himself within her pupils. Only himself.

The girl, he found upon further inspection, was beautiful. She had a porcelain complexion with a rosy tint, and raven-black hair tied up into sleek pigtails. Her features were delicate and soft, traditionally feminine in that way; but there was more beckoning beneath, a small thundercloud in the blue of her eyes that could shake the green out of his with one calculated blink. She had a certain charm in her (admittedly forced) smile that ate away his doubt.

He knew her. From where, he didn't know, but he knew her nevertheless.

"Adrien Agreste." The girl said, blinking in awe.

"That's me." Adrien lamely replied. His fingers found themselves tugging at his shirt collar, wondering what on earth he was supposed to say next to the beautiful - and eerily familiar - girl that stood before him. "I - have we met?"

Staring at her was like staring into the eyes of a ghost. A small piece of a long forgotten past.

"Not officially," She laughed. She reached out a single hand. Her smile thawed a little, became more gentle as the warmth of the conversation seemed to bubble around them. "I'm Marinette."

"Marinette." Adrien reiterated. He took her hand into his own, his entire body so numb he barely registered the physical contact between them. The name was smooth on his tongue. It had a familiar flavor, a welcomed spice that made his tongue sizzle with a strange heat. He cleared his throat of the uneasiness pouring into him like a cataract. "I'd tell you my name but you, uh, you already know...I mean...are those cupcakes?"

Both of their gazes shifted towards the box of treats she held in her free hands. As if she had been slapped, her other hand jerked away from him and grabbed back on the box. A small smear of pastel pink frosting got on her thumb. When she nervously reached up to twist one of her pigtails around her fingers, the frosting tangled in her hair.

"Oh no," she sighed, feeling the sporadic globs of frosting in her hair. "Um, well, I was just here to deliver these and then I'll be on my merry way. Where would you like them?"

Adrien frowned. Had she not been invited? He gingerly pried the cupcakes from her grasp. "Why don't you hang around for a bit? I don't mind putting these somewhere for you. Enjoy the party, Marinette."

Marinette flushed, fiddling around with her hair even more. Before she could protest (or agree, although the clear hesitancy in her eyes made the latter option improbable), Adrien turned on his heels and placed the cupcakes down on the first vacant spot he could find. The box read "Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie". He smacked his lips, picking up one of the pastel-frosted sweets and taking a slow bite. The creaminess of the frosting, the moist freshness of the cupcake, the sweet flavors rolling magically across his tastebuds...he closed his eyes and relished the flavors. These were the best cupcakes he'd ever had!

"Good, right?" Chloe was suddenly at Adrien's side, leaning against him and batting her eyelashes in his direction. Sabrina, a shy girl that occasionally third-wheeled when Adrien and Chloe hung out, stood a few inches away, bashfully pulling at the ends of her sweater vest. "Daddy says they're the best bakery in Paris, and only the best for my Adrikins!"

"They're amazing!" Adrien inhaled the rest of his cupcake and eagerly handed Chloe one of her own. She insisted she was on another one of her diets. He knew she would probably cave in before the nights end (only to restart tomorrow), but he merely shrugged and grabbed another one of his own, ignoring her snide "models need to be restrain their sweet tooths to maintain the ideal size" remarks. "Do you know her?" He finally prompted, gesturing back towards Marinette with his thumb.

Chloe groaned. The warmth in her blue eyes hardened like diamonds. Beautiful, but sharp, almost deadly. "Marinette Dupain-Cheng?" She hissed. "She's just some nerd in my class. She dated some upperclassmen last semester, I heard they got into all sorts of trouble together at school. It was scandalous; utterly scandalous!"

"I'm getting the feeling you two aren't very close?"

Chloe rolled her eyes. "You don't even know the half of it."

Marinette felt utterly gobsmacked. He recognized her, invited her to stay. She adjusted the strap of her purse further on her shoulder. She knew she shouldn't stay - couldn't - but the gravitational pull on her body heightened. She stood there, arms lamely hanging by her sides, face slack with awe.

Visions of Adrien standing near her, calling her amazing, whispering her name in his times of need seemed to slap her across the face. Her growing obsession - the kind that made her dream such silly dreams, as if the two had been close friends for years despite their paths never crossing before this moment - caused her body to tremble. His skin brushed against hers when he took the cupcakes. His eyes burned the permanent imprint of spring into her winter-y blue ones.

Marinette shook such prosperous thoughts away from the misty corners of her mind. Not even he could fill the void she felt within her heart. For he could not be the mother that she lost, the mother that she needed.

Boys, she'd learned, were far from a proper supplement for maternal love.

Just as she turned to leave, she collided into someone.

"Oh, hey girl!" Alya chirped. "I thought you weren't coming to the party!"

"Oh, Alya! Hey!" Marinette rubbed the back of her neck, trying to formulate some quick excuse so she could make her grand escape. Warm copper optics bore into her soul. She groaned at her friend's eagerness. "I wasn't going to stay, but Adrien invited me to, so..."

"What?! No way! Hasn't he been your celebrity crush forever?"

Ear-tips burned like chipped embers against her head and sizzled in her hair. She pressed her hands against her cheeks to conceal the growing warmth spreading across her entire body, but it did little good - she had a pink hue displayed across all her exposed skin.

"/Alya/," She hissed. "Keep it down, please? He barely even knows who I am."

Alya rolled her eyes. "Sure, girl, but he wants to know who you are." Like the smug vixen she is, Alya nodded (not-so-subtly, might she add) towards Adrien, who, despite conversing with Chloe, was looking at Marinette. When Adrien realized Marinette had caught his stare, his head ducked and he turned back towards Chloe.

Sweet temptation crawled up and down her spine, extending itself into her extremities. Marinette pushed those feelings aside. "I can't. Luka and Nathaniel are here, it'd be too awkward."

"Forget them! You barely dated either of them!"

"I don't know...Chloe already thinks I'm a player, and she's clearly really close to Adrien. I'm probably going to just stay for the food and leave in half an hour." Marinette said.

Alya sighed. "Fine girl, but you really shouldn't care so much about what other people think."

"I don't care what anyone thinks." Marinette stiffened. But then her eyes flickered back towards Adrien, whose head was slightly tilted back as a hearty laugh spilled from his lips. He placed one hand on his stomach. She imagined how good it would feel to have him react that way to something she said; she envisioned how he would look into her eyes afterwards and say "that was a good one, Marinette." Her insides twisted into one big knot.

 _Except,_ she thought, _for him_.

"Ugh, your pining is so ridiculous, girl! Why don't you ask him to dance?" As if on cue, the lights around them dimmed and the music began to slow. Marinette suddenly felt like she was going to puke up her knotted insides.

"I just told you why! Both of my exes are here. No way. We promised each other, no more boys."

Alya suddenly looked away, her fingers twisting slowly around each other.

"...Didn't we?"

No response.

 _"_ _Alya?_ "

"Don't be mad!" She gushed out like a bursting dam. "Nino and I got back together yesterday. I just wasn't sure how to tell you."

Marinette wanted to be mad - after Nino and Alya had a falling out and Marinette had finally cut it off with Luka, pursuing another relationship seemed foolish, and so the two had decided to swear off boys for good - but Alya was already glancing towards Nino, clearly itching to be in his embrace for the slow dance. She heaved out sigh. "Traitor," She said, playfully flicking Alya's arm. But then she nodded her heads towards Nino. "Why don't you ask him to dance?"

Alya beamed, but just before she left, she firmly placed her hands on Marinette's shoulders. "Our no boy pact is officially called off!" She declared, with a ceremonious hum. "And now you can dance with Adrien!" Before Marinette could protest, Alya flung her into the boy's direction, who was walking in her direction but saying something offhandedly to Sabrina.

She hit her head square in his chest. It was well-packed with muscle if the ache in her cranium was anything to go by.

"Adrien!" She avoided looking into his eyes again. The ice within her own had thawed from his warmth into a springtime creek, barely holding onto any ice. But she wanted the ice there, had frozen over her own Mediterranean seas as a way to keep the chill inside of her. She didn't want to forgive or forget.

But then he was touching her shoulder and asking her if she was alright, and she had to look up at him. The radiance of his smile, the warm green-suns in his optics, the golden hue of his skin juxtaposed her general coolness and fairness; she melted all over again.

"I...I am so sorry! I'm such a klutz!"

"Don't worry about it." Adrien grinned. Then he paused, his gaze flickering towards the dance floor. Then, as if she were watching a butterfly breaking out of a cocoon, Adrien seemed to go through some sort of mental metamorphosis. He stared at her, then towards the dancing couples, and then determination roared in his gaze like the crackle of a fire. "Let's just hope you're lighter on your feet on the dance floor!"

Marinette was too stunned for words. A few days ago - a mere few /hours/ ago - he'd just been a poster on her wall, a picture in the tabloids. Now his skin was against hers, pulse against pulse, as he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the dance floor. She told herself to wriggle from his grasp, but she was too busy turning into a puddle on the floor.

Their hands intwined. He put her other hand onto his shoulder, and then snaked his free arm around her waist. Before she was even aware of what was happening, they were swept up like leaves in a breeze. They were gliding across the floor, bodies harmonizing naturally, as if this partnership was more than just two teens dancing. It was fate blossoming in the secrecy of twilight.

"You have frosting on the side of your nose." Marinette giggled. Adrien watched her intensely as she did so, but she barely noticed it. Her eyes rolled back as she laughed, and then she moved her hand off his shoulder to gently wipe it off.

"And you still have frosting in your hair!" He countered. Marinette bit back the groan that rose up in her throat as she remembered the globes of frosting she'd dumbly twisted into her fine locks. Adrien's laugh was infectious, though, and soon she found herself chiming in.

The laugher was like bell chimes. So melodic and pure. So familiar yet wonderfully new...

"The bakery you work at is amazing by the way."

"Thanks. My papa owns it, actually, but I-I did the baking."

"Really? Well, my compliments to the chef." Adrien winked.

"You seem to have something in your eye," Marinette mused.

Their conversation continued, going down many avenues neither of them expected. She shared her dreams of one day being a renowned designer with him, something she did not often flaunt, especially now that its been put on the back burner. He told her about his secret wish to abandon the modeling industry to pursue a career in creative writing. Marinette's better judgement told her to keep her secrets at bay, but around him, she felt no need to. She felt as if she could spill a thousand secrets into his soul and he would carry the weight of them to his grave.

"I wouldn't have taken you as a writer." Marinette closed her eyes. Somehow, both her arms had moved around his shoulders, and both his around her waist. She nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scents of peppermint that and cologne.

"My father thinks it's a fruitless pursuit. I plan on publishing a novel in a year or two when I finish it, but I know he'll be embarrassed by it; by me."

"Well that's just silly! I think it's great you found something you enjoy. Passion...passion is good. And I can see the fire in your eyes when you talk about it. Maybe you can show me what you've written so far."

Suddenly, their movements stopped. Marinette slowly moved back to gaze at Adrien, worried she'd overstepped her bounds. But when her gaze finally found its way to his profile, she saw the faintest smile on his rose-petal lips. But in his eyes, just as she said, she saw an emerald flame.

"You...want to read my work?"

"Of course!"

Adrien hummed. "Well, if you're planning on coming over for that then, I guess you're going to need my number, aren't you?"

Marinette spent the rest of the night practically conjoined at the hip with Adrien, with a permanent blush blanketed over her face and a grin twisted onto her lips.

And there was no better way to end the night than to make a solemn oath to the midnight moon that she remember these moments with her till death, and that she would never wash again, because her blazer smelled of peppermint, comfort, and Adrien's cologne.


End file.
